The Bet: A Bully Romance(37)

I don’t know how to fix this.

How to fix him.

“I...I can go if you want me to?” My words must shake something inside of him, because he lifts his head, and turns to look at me.

I can’t contain the gasp that escapes my lips when I see the tears glistening in his eyes.

“Don’t leave, Jules. Not tonight. Stay with me. Let me hold you. Let me pretend that I didn’t fuck everything up. That I didn’t ruin us.”

“We aren’t ruined, Rem.” Are we? I don’t know if things could ever go back to being the way they were before, if we could ever be friends like we used to be, not with all the carnage, all the heartache, but ruined? We aren’t ruined.

“Let’s go lie down on the bed. We can talk more whenever you want, but for now, I just want you to hold me.” I tug on his arm, but he doesn't move right away, and for a moment I wonder if he’s changed his mind.

Then as if he can feel the doubt creeping in around me, he gets up. I notice his eyes are swollen and bloodshot as he pulls me to my feet, and I stare up at him, completely consumed by the man before me.

Instead of walking to the bed like I expect him to do, he goes over to the dresser and opens a drawer or two, rummaging through them as if he’s looking for something. A moment later he pulls out some sweatpants and a t-shirt I’m sure he’s worn a million times.

“Will you be good sleeping in this?” he asks, handing me the shirt.

“It isn’t my Mickey one, but it’ll do.” I grin, taking the shirt from his outstretched hand.

He smiles back at me and then I watch him as he flicks the button on his jeans and pushes them down his muscled thighs. I all but swallow my tongue at the image before me. I know we were just like this the other night, but I was drugged then and had no honor or morality.

Tonight is different though...tonight I’m me, and Remmy is, well him, and we’re normal, or as normal as we can be.

“Are you going to change or are you just going to stand there and watch me?”

“I…I don’t know, maybe I should change in the bathroom,” I say nervously.

“You know I pretty much saw you naked the other night, right?”

My cheeks heat in embarrassment, of course he did. Stupid Jules. Stupid. I must be showing every emotion that I’m feeling right at that moment because Rem cringes as if he realizes he said something wrong.

“I’m sorry Cole hurt you… If I would have known what he was planning, I wouldn’t have left you alone with him. I swear I had no idea that he put something in your drink and I thought you wanted to be with him since you went on a bunch of dates together. I was trying to let you go, let you be happy.”

“Dates? What? I never went on a date with him!” I nearly yell.

That fucking asshole.

Rem gives me a disbelieving look. “I saw you, Jules… at the diner, with Thomas and his girl. You all looked cozy.” There’s a jealousness that lingers in his voice.

“That wasn't a date, Rem. I was there to pick up some chocolate cake and he talked me into sitting down with them while I was waiting. I was there for like five minutes and as soon as the waitress came back with my order, I jumped up and left. It wasn’t a date, Rem, believe me. I’ve been doing everything I can to avoid him. The last thing I would do is subject myself to an hour long date with the guy.”

“Fuck!” he curses, clearly angry with himself that he believed Cole’s pathetic story.

“Yeah, we weren’t dating and as for the other night, I just want to forget it ever happened. It’s one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made.”

“Well, I want you to know I wouldn’t ever do that to you…to anyone…”

“I already know that. You’re a pure gentleman.” I roll my eyes, and he lifts a questioning brow at me.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I’m definitely an asshole, but I wouldn’t do that. I can’t believe I was friends with him, that I didn’t see his douchebagness from a mile away. He never did end up coming back to the frat house and even if he tried, I wouldn’t have let him in. I won’t live with a fucking rapist. He’s pathetic and if I ever see him again, I’ll do more than rearrange his face. His family will need to make funeral arrangements.”

“He’s not worth it,” I respond, pulling my shirt off, and then unbuttoning my pants. As I push them down my legs, I catch Remington’s eyes wandering over my naked body. There’s a hunger in them, a primal need that’s directed right at me and it only gets worse when I reach around and unhook my bra. The need inside of me mounts when his pink tongue darts out over his full bottom lip. I want to kiss him, taste him.

My pussy clenches, but there’s nothing there to sedate the ache forming inside of it. I want Remington, almost as badly as I wanted him three years ago.

I slide the bra off and pull the shirt on that he gave me, trying my best not to react to him, and the heat in my core. When my head pops through the head hole, I find he’s still staring at me, but the look in his eyes has diminished a bit, almost like he’s suppressing the need.

“You want to wear the sweatpants too?” he asks, his voice deep, thicker than normal.

I shake my head without thinking, turn around, and walk over to the bed. He pulls off his shirt, discarding it on the floor before he follows me to the bed in nothing but a pair of boxers.